Animagus
by waitingforjudas
Summary: Stiles figures out how to become an—illegal, unregistered—Animagus. He's hoping to become a cat, but when he finds out that his Animagus form is a wolf, things get interesting. (Sterek Harry Potter AU with true mates; completed.)
1. Chapter 1

Stiles had been sure that it'd work. And it did… mostly. He was an Animagus, yes, but the whole, "let's be a cat because that'll be pretty inconspicuous and also climbing trees and maybe going to Derek while transformed to see what happens," was both really appealing and really not what actually happened.

Honestly, this was about the worst possible outcome that could've occurred.

Because Stiles was a wolf.

And not just like, "Oh, it's a Husky," but _"OH MY GOD WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS THIS THING?"_

He kind of looked like a smaller, slimmer, less-terrifying-but-still-freaky version of Derek's full shift.

At least he'd transformed for the first time in an empty toilet stall, although he was pressed up pretty uncomfortably against the sides of the cubicle, and he was really not liking just how much he could smell when he was a wolf like this.

Was this how it was for Derek all the time?

God, he hoped not. Because there was something salty and tangy that made him sneeze, and he had a bad feeling that that bitter aftertaste on his tongue was because it was semen.

_Ugh._

He managed to transform back somehow and slip out of the bathroom after getting his clothes back on. Hopefully, Derek would be back in the common room by now, because although Stiles wasn't panicking, Stiles was panicking.

He may have flailed just the _tiniest_ bit as he ran to the Hufflepuff commons and slipped through the weird barrel mess that was the entrance.

"Where's Derek?" he managed, gulping air.

One terrified-looking first-year with curly blonde hair was sitting in the otherwise empty common room.

"Derek Hale," Stiles said. "Bunny teeth, dark hair, wears glasses, super grouchy?"

"Thanks, Stiles," Derek said, materializing from _somewhere_ and Stiles did not jump or even startle or blink at that because he was used to that, thankyouverymuch.

Derek snorted at him. "What is it now?"

"I… may have a, uh, a very _minor_ problem that I need some help with."

"And what, exactly, would that problem _be_?"

"In private," Stiles said.

Derek just raised his eyebrows and gestured meaninglessly—and Stiles knew it was meaningless because he'd taken ASL and learned how to _choreograph his hand movements, Derek, you hateful pig_.

Anyway.

It didn't really matter, because Stiles just crawled back through the barrels and led Derek to one of the lesser-known secret passageways, casting a quick _Lumos_ as Derek finally grew frustrated and snapped, "What, are you trying to seduce me?"

Stiles did, admittedly, flail at that. "What? No!" he cried. "I figured out how to do the whole Animagus thing, but—barely. I think I screwed up part of the spell or something, and—"

"You? Stiles? Screw up? I never," Derek said, sounding so scandalized he almost resembled a nice Southern lady for a moment, hand resting over his heart.

"Dickhead. Look, I was _trying_ to be a cat, because then I could've been an effective spy, but…" Stiles made a frustrated noise. "Okay, just—hold my wand and turn around."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "You don't realize how that—"

"I realize, Derek," Stiles snapped, and, mercifully, Derek stopped snarking back and took his wand and turned.

Stiles stripped out of his clothes and transformed.

"Can I turn around yet?" Derek said.

Stiles huffed, forgetting for a second that he was a wolf, and Derek spun around and nearly dropped Stiles' wand, for once the clumsy one in this friendship.

"Oh, my god," Derek said.

Stiles huffed again, trying to communicate, "_Yeah, dumbass, I told you there was a problem_."

"You shouldn't've…. But that doesn't…. Stiles, I need to see your chest."

Stiles yelped indignantly. _Yeah, right, like you can get a piece of_ this _fine ass without even dinner first_.

Derek dropped his wand to the side and grabbed Stiles around the middle, wrestling him to the ground, belly-up, as Stiles growled and barked at the manhandling, even though it came out more hysterical and startled than aggressive or intimidating.

"I'm sorry, but I have to check, okay?"

Stiles huffed, hard.

Derek's fingers, though, were gentle where they raked through his fur, slow and thorough and careful—weirdly so.

It felt nice, and Stiles settled enough that he could enjoy it properly.

Derek's hand froze a moment later. "Shit," Derek hissed. "Shit, shit, _shit_."

Stiles made a questioning whine, because as illogical as it was, he really, _really_ wanted Derek to go back to the nice petting.

Stiles opened his eyes, though, to see Derek's eyes flickering between a rich ruby red and his normal hazel colors, and his lips tightly pressed together. Derek jerked his hands back a moment later, looking horrified.

Stiles pulled himself up, confused, and nosed at Derek's face. Derek shut his eyes tight, and then made a noise of pain.

Stiles tried to lick at his face, just to get him to say something or even open his eyes, but Derek stood up fast and kept his hands behind his back and tilted his face up to the heavens to mutter, through a heavy slur that meant his fangs had dropped and he couldn't pull them back, "I need to call Laura."

Stiles transformed back, uncaring of nudity when his friend was obviously distraught. "Derek, are you okay? Seriously, you're not acting like yourself, and—"

Derek made an even more upset noise.

Stiles reached out to take Derek's hands from behind his back where his claws were almost certainly out and he was digging them into his hands no matter how bad it hurt, especially considering that his skin was likely healing _around_ his claws.

"Stiles," Derek managed through a choked, miserable sounding voice, "I think you need to go."

"Why? Derek, you're hurting yourself, and—I'm sorry, I just thought you'd, I don't know, say that maybe we should go on a full moon run or something together, not— What? What are you doing?"

"You need," Derek said, and tensed further, "to _go_."

"I'm not just going to leave you when—"

"I'm. In rut. Get out. Call Laura. Stay in the Ravenclaw Tower."

Stiles stared openly, then, when sense returned to him a second later, he grabbed his clothes, stuffed himself back into his jeans and the Hogwarts sweater, and grabbed his wand off the floor. "Okay. Uh—I'll call Laura. Um, don't hurt—"

"Stiles." Derek groaned again, shifting again, and Stiles could see blood start to drip to the floor underneath him.

"Going," Stiles said quickly.

"Don't," Derek mumbled, "run. Face me and back away slowly."

Okay, so here was the thing. Stiles already knew this. Derek didn't know that Stiles knew this, but Stiles knew this because he'd read a bizarre (and very, very hot) werewolf romance in which the werewolf had a knot and went into rut, and Stiles had gotten curious about ruts and ended up doing a lot of research and apparently, there was only one type of person who needed to be careful and back off slowly during a rut if they didn't want to be chased and fucked beyond the point of forgetting their own name.

That person was the desired mate.

Derek didn't want this, though—didn't want Stiles. His wolf did, but Derek was more than his wolf.

So, without arguing, Stiles backed down the hall, as slowly as he could manage, trying to remember those particular things about not coming across as nervous or aroused, certain he was failing at both—but Stiles had his wand and dueling practice, and Derek, considering that he was in rut, was unlikely to be even able to work a zipper at the moment, or even a door.

Once he was out of the passageway, though, Stiles took off running after creating some WET FLOOR signs by transforming some old quills and setting them around the entrance in a 7 formation.

He didn't stop until he was in the common room—after answering the riddle, of course, "The chicken or the egg?" which was actually not a riddle, really, but a food preference (little-known fact)—and calling Laura Hale through Floo.

She answered quickly, and he felt weird having his heard in somebody else's fireplace, but he managed to tell her that Derek was in rut.

"What happened right before?"

Stiles hesitated. He'd _just_ managed to become an illegal, unregistered Animagus, and he wasn't exactly excited to give that up just yet.

"Stiles," Laura said warningly, and Stiles folded.

"So I figured out how to become an Animagus," Stiles said, and Laura groaned. "No, but that's not the weird part! I showed Derek, in one of those passageways under the school, and he freaked out and got really serious about rubbing my belly, and then he beta-shifted, and—"

"What's your Animagus form," Laura said, not even pretending like it was anything other than a demand for information.

"A wolf. I was hoping it'd be a cat, but—"

Laura swore loudly. "Stiles, I'll take care of this, but you need to stay behind several layers of protected boundaries."

"I'm already in the common room, and—"

"Not enough," she said. "Get some mountain ash, go in your dormitory, and make a circle big enough for you to sleep in and study in. All right? Be ready to stay there for a couple days."

Stiles stared, but nodded slowly—something hard to do when his chin was pretty much resting on the fireplace floor—and Laura waved to him, already yelling for her owl.

He pulled his head out, confused. None of this was making sense.

But he did as Laura asked and went up to his dorm and drew out a large mountain ash circle to sit in and he started working on studying for his NEWTs.

Although it was kind of useless, because all he could think about was whether or not Derek was okay.

Maybe three or four hours later, one of his dorm mates came in and said, "Laura Hale told me to tell you, and I quote—'On Tuesday, you can come outside the Tower safely. Until then, do not dare. Here is a bucket for you to use." He offered Stiles the bucket. "The headmaster has excused you from your classes. On Tuesday, you will need to speak with Derek.'"

Stiles stared for a moment before slowly nodding and taking the bucket. He frowned at it—it looked enchanted.

He spit in it, and it immediately disappeared.

He had no idea where that had just gone, but okay, whatever. This was totally normal, right?

He just had to wait until Tuesday, and things would be okay again. He could talk to Derek then, and that'd be all right.

Stiles could hardly wait, and not just because he was already getting antsy.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke up slowly and then jerked awake as he realized Derek was slumped at the edge of the mountain ash, breath rattling loud enough for Stiles to hear it loudly five feet away.

If Derek had sleep apnea, then—

Wait.

"Derek?" Stiles whispered. It was two in the morning and it was Monday. By Laura's calculations, Derek's rut wouldn't finish until Tuesday.

Derek whimpered and twitched, reaching out towards Stiles and whining louder when the mountain ash stopped his hand.

"Oh, shit."

Okay. So Stiles had two choices.

Choice one—the reasonable choice—was to send a Patronus or something to a professor and get help.

Choice two was to check on Derek himself.

And Stiles was certain that Derek wouldn't hurt him.

Slowly, Stiles climbed out of his bed, leaving the sheets bunched up at the base of the bed. Derek whined again and settled a moment later, but Stiles froze.

He should just send his Patronus to alert someone and get help.

But then again… if Derek had broken out of wherever he'd been and got into Stiles' dorm room, well… maybe it wouldn't be that simple to get rid of him.

Stiles kneeled down and carefully broke the line of mountain ash, and Derek—who had apparently been leaning against it—rolled in front of him, waking up.

His eyes were red.

Stiles swallowed. "Hey, Der."

Derek growled low in his throat.

"I know. Here, why don't you—"

Derek reached out and grabbed his wrist, claws digging into his flesh.

Stiles winced. "Okay, fragile human here, all right? Hey, why don't you—"

Derek snarled as he got to his feet, pulling Stiles up with him.

"Let's sit down," Stiles tried. "Just sit down on the bed, right here, and we can figure this out." Derek growled. "Or! Or, or— Or I could read to you."

Derek went silent and Stiles smiled. "Yeah, big guy. I could read to you. I've got books. What do you think, maybe Lord of the Rings? A Star Wars novel?"

Stiles backed up until his legs hit the mattress and sat down, letting Derek tighten his grip until something clicked—like, "Hey, maybe this is okay"—and he let go, sitting down across from Stiles slowly.

Stiles grinned encouragingly. "Awesome, dude."

Derek growled again, but it petered off into a huff that sounded almost like a laugh.

"Okay. Here, let's lie down, okay?"

Derek whined and practically tackled him, pressing him almost joyfully into the mattress.

"Okay— Okay, buddy. Hey. I'm gonna get the covers up, because I'm getting a little cold, but I don't want any funny business. Got it?"

Derek just stared at him with big, dewy red eyes, like everything was right in the world now that he was here, lying on top of Stiles, getting thick blankets and sheets pulled around his nearly nude body.

"I'm gonna send for somebody to come here and make sure you're okay," Stiles said, thinking _Accio wand_ and opening his hand. It flew into his hand easily as Derek nuzzled into his throat.

Of all the possible people, Laura was probably the best bet.

"_Expecto patronum_," Stiles murmured, running a hand absently through Derek's hair. His fox wasn't—

"Who the hell are you?" Stiles said, staring at the wolf that, for all the world, looked like his Animagus.

It just blinked at him calmly.

"Oh, god," he muttered. "Okay. Fine. Go tell Laura Hale that Derek's with me and she should probably come get him."

Derek whined mournfully as Stiles' Patronus ran off, hopefully to get Laura and give her the message.

It was more than possible that his Patronus would get confused, but Stiles was a little distracted, namely by the heap of crying werewolf in his la—

Crying?

"Hey— Whoa, hey, Derek. Derek, look at me."

Derek whimpered as he looked up into Stiles' eyes.

He was fucking crying.

"Hey, buddy. Hey. What can I do for you? Do you want me to tell you a story, maybe? I could—"

"Shift," Derek said, voice barely above a low growl.

"Into— Into my Animagus?"

Derek nodded and pulled back—and shifted into his wolf form, which was just fucking outrageously beautiful.

Stiles stared and ran a hand down his neck, pleased when Derek only leaned into it and didn't even try to growl for posterity's sake.

Derek watched him as he hesitated and finally gave in, shifting into his own wolf.

Derek's tail wagged as he poked his nose into Stiles' neck and flopped down next to him, wrapping his—massive, huge, outrageously large—body around Stiles.

And— Well, it was warm, okay? It wasn't like Stiles could really be blamed for falling asleep with Derek slowly washing his eyes and ears, nuzzling into his neck every few minutes.

But when Laura got there, she definitely blamed him.

"Stiles!" she shouted, and Stiles jerked awake and away into Derek's soft mounds of fur. "I tell you my brother's in heat and you get him in your bed?"

Stiles cowered, the animal part of his mind taking over entirely as he shook.

Laura Hale was scary even when Stiles had some control over the instincts screaming at him that he was going to die.

Derek snarled, and Stiles stared as Derek got to his feet, standing over Stiles' body, and growled at her.

Laura flashed her eyes at him, the bright, bright red that denoted pack Alphas, but Derek's snarl only faltered for a second.

"Stiles," she said, looking like she was about to kill somebody. "You need to shift back. He won't calm down unless you tell him to stand down."

Stiles was in the Twilight Zone. He was in the motherfucking Twilight Zone. How was this his life?

(Seriously, how?)

He shifted back and grabbed a pillow to cover himself with. "Hey, Der-bear."

Derek looked down at him.

Laura laughed. "You call him _what_?"

Derek whined like he'd been betrayed.

"Der, look at me. Hi. You're fine, dude, seriously. But I think it's for the best if you go with Laura until tomorrow. I'd like to talk to you, I promise, but I want to talk to you, not wolf-you. Who's kind of an awful conversationalist."

Derek watched him warily with his tail tucked between his legs.

"Oh, hell," Laura muttered. "He thinks you're rejecting him."

"What?" Stiles squeaked. "When did I accept?"

Derek's shoulders sunk to the mattress as his ears flattened and he tilted his head to the side.

"Look, just— Derek. I'm serious. You'll see him tomorrow."

"Or later today," Stiles tried. "I have to go to classes, buddy, and they're not gonna like it if I'm bringing a wolf along to Herbology. I think we're doing Mandrakes today."

At that, Derek jumped back to his feet, shaking himself and sneezing like he was allergic to the memory.

"Yeah," Stiles said, emphasizing it. "That's really not gonna be fun for wolf-you. So I think your best bet is to go with your sister, take some time for a break, and I'll see you at lunch. Okay?"

"Dinner," Laura corrected.

"I'll see you at dinner."

Derek licked his lips nervously, but he crawled down from the bed, slinking to the floor and turning only briefly back to Stiles.

"I promise, big guy," Stiles said, rubbing Derek's huge, velvet-soft ear, "I'll see you at dinner."

Derek licked at his hand once and then turned and followed Laura out of Stiles' dorm room.

The moment the door shut, Stiles collapsed against the pillows.

At least his roommates were sleeping elsewhere that night.

"That was wild," Eugene Knightley crowed. "Wild. You two are—"

Stiles groaned as he fell back against his pillows.

Dinner.

He just had to figure out how to get through the day and then he could go to dinner.

But he'd also need to figure out how to get through dinner.

It looked like it would be a day for pumpkin juice and chocolate frogs for breakfast, lunch, and—

Oh, God. Derek would be a wolf at dinner, too, wasn't he?

Okay, and—and some kind of non-chocolate dessert for dinner.

He couldn't stress-eat chocolate in front of Derek.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek looked… worn-down when he answered the door.

"Hey," Stiles said, grinning. "How're you feeling?"

Derek just opened the door further and gestured for Stiles to come inside.

Stiles' grin softened. "Is Laura here?"

"Unfortunately," came from a newspaper on the couch. "I'm not looking."

Derek growled softly.

Stiles caught his eye. "Dude."

"Don't call me dude."

"Der—"

"Stiles," Derek snapped. "Sit."

He sat—and grinned as Derek fidgeted. "What? Glad I'm obeying?"

Derek's eyes flashed.

"I'm not looking," Laura said, "but I have ears. And a nose."

Stiles flushed, but he smiled still. "Um. Sorry."

Laura stood, folding the newspaper and covering her eyes with a hand. "You two behave. I'm gonna check on the food."

"Don't put the cookies in yet," Derek said, and Stiles turned to him with a frown.

"The cookies?"

Derek flushed and Laura ducked through the swinging door into the kitchen.

"I repeat," Stiles said, "the cookies?"

"Don't worry about it. Um."

"I'll change the subject," Stiles offered, and Derek nodded almost desperately.

"Please."

"So," Stiles said, trying to think of something interesting to discuss, "are knots real?"

Something fell in the kitchen, but Stiles heard something that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Derek gaped at him. "Are _knots_—" He shook his head, eyes wide.

"Oh," Stiles said, trying not to feel so disappointed. "I mean, I figured—"

"I didn't— They're—"

"_Real_? Holy shit— _How_? You know, I researched it, and I couldn't find anything other than—"

"Stiles," Derek said—and Stiles would've kept going, but Derek looked so pained that Stiles shut up.

"Sorry," he tried, smiling sheepishly. "Okay, how about— Are mates… a thing?"

Derek relaxed into the chair and nodded slowly. "Do you— Is there anything specific you wanted to know?"

"Are they predetermined? Or—"

"Like soulmates?" Derek asked, frowning.

"Yeah."

"Somewhat?" Derek's frown deepened. "Not quite, but—more or less. Wolves with full shifts have marks that identify them, so—"

"I have one, right?" Stiles swallowed. "On my chest."

"As a human, it's something like a mole or a freckle, but…."

Stiles snorted, nodding. "Yeah, kind of a needle in a haystack, right?"

Derek smiled. "A little."

"So… what now? Do we get together or—"

"It—" Derek swallowed, throat working as his Adam's apple bobbed. "It's not necessarily that simple, really."

"Why not?"

Derek shrugged. "You're a fourth year, I'm in sixth."

Stiles blinked. "That's your argument?"

"It's— You're my mate, Stiles. That's not something—something small."

"I'd hope not," Stiles muttered and blushed. "Sorry, Laura."

"I've gone spontaneously deaf," she called from the kitchen.

"To be clear," Stiles said carefully, "you don't want to be with me because you don't think I get it."

Derek shrugged, but it was his _yeah, but I'm not gonna say so_ shrug.

"So— Give me a trial run. Just until the end of term. You tell me all about mates, and I'll tell you, I don't know— Whatever you want to know about me. And before you give me that look," but there it was anyway, Derek's scowl in full force, "I know that it sounds bad. You're worried I won't take it seriously and I'm suggesting a few months to try it out instead of jumping in. But, if you think about it, it makes more sense. Instead of jumping in, which could mean that I'm not thinking it through, I'm saying we should take it slow. Like. Glacier slow—but the glacier's made of molasses. And maybe—"

"Stiles," Derek cut in.

"—we could, I don't know, do those full moon runs I was talking about, you know? We could go on the Quidditch field—'cause we're _so_ not going in the Forbidden Forest, like, can you say—"

"Stiles."

He winced. "Yep?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" he echoed. "Yes what?"

"Yes," Derek gritted, like he was in actual pain, "I think it's a good idea."

"Oh— Oh! Dude! That's fucking awesome!" Stiles jumped up and threw his arms around Derek's shoulders, kind of sitting on his lap a little before he realized what he was doing.

But by that point, Derek was hugging him back and— Well, it wasn't like he would deny Derek a _hug_.

And then—_maybe_—Derek pulled back and so Stiles pulled back a little, too, and then maybe they were kissing all of a sudden—

But oh, God, Derek started it.

Derek was—

Stiles tangled his fingers in Derek's hair, pressing himself closer and closer to Derek's body, his grip tightening as Derek's hands slid up his hips—so goddamn slowly that Stiles was certain he was going to explode, just spontaneously fucking combust.

And finally, _finally_, Derek decided it was _reasonable_ to touch him, to slip his strong, calloused hands underneath his shirt and _squeeze_ and Stiles groaned, his fingers shaking as—

"Food," Laura said loudly. "I'm giving you to the count of five to get presentable or we're going to—"

"We're fine!" Stiles squeaked, jumping off of Derek like he was a pile of burning _hot_— "Fine! Presentable! Sorry!"

Laura set down a pot roast on the middle of the table. "Derek, remind me to put the cookies in the oven in a few."

Derek nodded stiltedly and Stiles stared as Derek stood and crossed over to the table. "Seriously, Derek— Cookies? What the hell—"

Derek rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair.

And then he just stood there.

Stiles squinted at him. "What are you doing?"

Derek started to look vaguely constipated.

And then less vaguely so.

"Stiles," he growled.

"Derek," Stiles said slowly. "What are you doing?"

"He's being chivalrous," Laura said, taking a thick slice of the roast.

Stiles' gaze shot over to Derek, wide-eyed. "Oh, shit! Oh, shit, I'm sorry—" He threw himself down into the chair and scooted in jerkily. "I'm sorry, dude—"

"Don't call me dude." But the tension in his shoulders was gone as he sat down and started passing Stiles food—which Stiles took hesitantly at first, and then more and more quickly as he realized that, for whatever reason, Derek was insisting on Stiles having a little of everything. Including the rolls, _and_ the butter _and_ the honey—which, yes, delicious, but _why_?—and every last vegetable.

"Seriously?" Stiles whined as Derek offered him turnips.

_Turnips_.

Derek shot him a sharp look and Laura snorted into her water as Stiles took a small spoonful.

"Cookies, Der," Laura said, and Derek jumped to his feet, looking for all the world like a fucking pointer dog.

Stiles swallowed back his laughter, but he got the feeling Derek heard anyway.

Despite that, Derek just squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him as he stood.

Warmth filled Stiles' shoulder and his belly and then his entire being as he shivered, not even a little from the cool air blowing from the ceiling fan.

###

"So," Stiles said as Derek walked him to the door. "To the end of term."

Derek smiled, a little stilted—like he wasn't sure he should be. "And beyond."

Stiles gaped. "Oh, my— Derek, did you just make a _Toy Story_ reference? Oh, my God, _dude_—"

Derek rolled his eyes, but his smile grew. "Goodbye, Stiles."

"Derek!"

Derek closed the door in his face, but Stiles wasn't even slightly offended.

So.

Until the end of the term.

And—as Derek had said—_beyond_.


	4. Epilogue

Stiles shifted on the grass where he was sprawled, lazily basking in the moon's glow.

Derek kept running over to check on him every few minutes and had even stationed Boyd next to him with a firm look and a brief growl that Stiles had totally not laughed at.

If he had, it was really more of a snorting cough, and therefore he couldn't be faulted. Especially by Boyd, who still thought—at least to some degree—that Derek's threats were credible.

Whatever.

Boyd was a good guard puppy, in all honesty. At the moment, he was allowing Stiles to inch pretty close into his personal space bubble while Derek ran around barking at his puppies and running from them as they gave playful chase.

(The one full moon he hadn't done this, Derek had explained to him, none of them had slept. There had also been quite a few woodland creatures felled that night, and a few of the less-cuddly variety from the Forbidden Forest.)

And since Boyd was the best about not running into the Forbidden Forest, he was on guard puppy duty.

Derek ran over to check on Stiles _again_ as Isaac, Erica, and Scott lunged at each other, teeth and spit flying everywhere as they snarled.

Stiles tried not to watch or else his chemosignals went _nuts_ and that _really_ worried Derek.

Derek sniffed at his head and Stiles tried to communicate how ridiculous he was being—but then Derek started lapping at his ears and Stiles went limp on the ground, sighing with a deep, chest-rattling huff.

He could feel Boyd's amusement—and vague disgust—but he ignored it.

Derek gave him one last ear-lick and then licked his nose once—making Stiles sneeze, which was almost definitely on purpose—and then ran off to his puppies again, throwing himself bodily at Erica.

Stiles looked away immediately, focusing on the stars and the moon instead of the snarling wolves.

Boyd shifted closer to him and Stiles' tail wagged at the warmth.

Being a wolf was fucking awesome. Pack was fucking awesome.

Derek?

Stiles glanced to his mate, doing his best to stay calm as Isaac pinned him to the ground, teeth out like he would actually rip Derek's throat out.

Derek was _beyond_.


End file.
